


What Colour is My Love?

by LittleLalaith



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Asexual Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), F/M, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-12 10:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18009221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLalaith/pseuds/LittleLalaith
Summary: Since deviating, many androids have been able to develop strong emotional connections to their companions - many find love, or lust... So why can't Connor seem to unlock that avenue of his own deviancy?Faced with social expectations, the guilt of unrequited attraction, and a ceaseless impression that he's failing to live the life that Markus fought so hard to win for him - Connor tries to process his lack of desire and find the cause of his 'malfunction'(AKA - a very self-indulgent story about coming to terms with asexuality/aromantic/demisexuality)





	1. A Generous but Unwanted Offer

Connor watched as the mountain-side condo rolled into view through the windscreen - the subtle balance of modest and extravagant, with a sprawling layout constructed of plain shades and shapes. It suited Mr Kamski perfectly, all things considered: intimidating and cold from an outside view, but Connor knew that it housed an exotic and luxurious heart. What Elijah Kamski wanted, Elijah Kamski got. The car rolled to a stop and Connor stepped out, adjusting his shirt slightly to eliminate any creases from the long drive. Even though he had made the plunge into deviancy, his professional appearance had remained a high priority. He felt safe behind the immaculate mask, choosing the metaphorical face he put forward to the world rather than relying on the physical one he had been given. Once he was sure that he was presentable, he approached the door and rang the bell. 

It was only a moment before Chloe answered (53 seconds to be precise), greeting him with a smile that reached just a little closer to her eyes than the last time he had seen her. He noticed that she no longer wore the business-style dress that most of her model were equipped with - instead, she wore grey shorts with tights, creating a contrast to her light skin and the soft baby-blue of her top. "Connor, it's so good to see you. Please, come on in, Elijah has been expecting you," she greeted, stepping aside daintily to allow him inside. 

He offered her a smile of his own and stepped into the greeting hall- exactly the same as the last time he'd been here, though of course Hank wasn't occupying the chair next to the acer tree this time. Connor looked to Chloe and followed her lead as she guided him through the house, "Elijah is in his studio, I'll take you to him." she explained, holding the first door open for the RK800. 

"If he's busy, I can come back another time," Connor offered.

"Not at all. He's been looking forward to your visit, Connor. He even asked that I pick out one of his nicest shirts for the occasion," she responded, a polite but warm laugh lining her words.

He nodded slightly, surprised that Kamski would deem his visit worthy of special measures. Then again, Kamski was a man of small details... Whether it was his programming, his appearance or his home, he seemed to plan each and every small detail for the most effective results. Following the train of thought, it struck Connor that Elijah had set the plans for this house very carefully: a large and impressive greeting hall with only two chairs, which suggested that he wasn't in the habit of accepting company often but wanted to make them feel impressed with his achievements before they even saw him; then straight into the large swimming pool area with the expansive view of the mountain range, also no good for entertaining formal company but it served as another token of wealth to impress his guests. Connor remembered the first time he'd seen Kamski, the confidence he'd exuded when facing the police... or perhaps arrogance was a closer fit. It was a thin line between the two, a line that Elijah treaded with expert grace. 

As he scanned the connecting corridor, taking in details and drawing up information about the works of art on the walls, Connor noticed Chloe's gaze lingering on him. He turned his attention to her,realising that he had been a little rude (small talk was still something of a weak point for him, but he was trying to make more of an effort). 

"Your outfit is lovely... It suits you," he ventured.

"Thank you," she smiled, touching the soft fabric of her shirt lightly. "Elijah has always allowed us more freedom than most, but since Markus liberated the android population, he's felt that we're more capable of taking control of our lives. We're not bound by programming now."

"So,you've actively chosen to stay with Mr Kamski. You could go anywhere, do any job you like,"

She shook her head slightly, her expression soft - Connor has seen that expression a few times and understood that it was an indicator of affection. Perhaps even love. "There's nowhere else in this world that I would rather be. Elijah takes care of me, and I enjoy caring for him. His lifestyle provides me with plenty of opportunities for excitement and tranquility in equal parts... and he enjoys seeing me explore my desires, perhaps even as much as I enjoy exploring them."

With that last comment, Chloe's cheeks tinted a subtle shade of pink; Connor noticed that her pupils had dilated slightly when she looked at him, clear blue irises dancing over his features in a way that made him uncomfortable. She was referring to sexual desires, he concluded, looking away. "I'm glad that you've found happiness, Chloe."

"Have you found someone that makes you happy?" she probed slightly, hesitating at the door to the studio until he answered.

Connor considered this for a moment, thinking over the events of his life since the android revolution. He had been allowed to return to the DCPD as a fully-qualified police officer, and that contented him. The officers in the precint were mostly kind to him, although there was still some tension between the more stubborn anti-android officers and the new recruites. He mostly stayed with Hank and kept out of their way - he supposed Hank made him happy; they had been growing very close since Connor's deviancy and he felt less overwhelmed when Hank was helping him to make sense of his new emotional fluctuations. And, of course, there were the androids of Jericho... They had accepted him into their fold, regardless of his designed purpose, and he had found a kind of home with them. All in all, he had found a good many people who made him happy, though he wasn't entirely convinced that this was the answer that Chloe was looking for. 

"I'm very content with my life," he started hesitantly, meeting her gaze to see if he might find a more satisfying answer in their depths. "I surround myself with people who care for me and I care for them too. It's comforting... feeling like I belong somewhere."

Chloe's smile brightened a little and she reached a hand for Connor's, pressing it lightly between her own. Her gaze remained fixed on his as she leaned a little closer, her lips molding each word with a playful little lilt,"Well, you're always welcome here, Connor. Elijah and I would be happy to entertain you whenever you like."

While Connor took a moment to process the wink she gave him, Chloe stepped back and opened the door to the studio, greeting Kamski by draping her arms over his shoulders and kissing his temple. "Connor is here to see you." she murmured before moving back so that Elijah could turn to greet his guest.

"Connor, so glad you could join us," he walked over, placing a hand on the android's shoulder before leaning in to press a kiss to each of his cheeks. "Chloe has been so excited for your visit. We both have."

A small crease found purchase on Connor's brow as he tried to understand the subtext, especially since Elijah's hand lingered for a few moments on his shoulder, "I couldn't pass up an opportunity to speak with you, Mr Kamski. I'm curious to know your thoughts on everything that's happened recently. I thought you might have some interesting insights."  
At the utterance of 'Mr Kamski', Connor saw a flicker of mixed amusement and chargrin pass over his host's features. "We're all friends here... please, call me Elijah."  
Connor nodded, following Elijah's lead as he settled into an armchair next to the wall-to-wall window and made himself comfortable. While Chloe busied herself with bringing Elijah a coffee and pouring a thirium-based substitute for Connor, Elijah took a moment to look him over. "You know, I always found it funny that the android who was purpose-built for deviant-hunting was probably the most deviant model of all,"he smirked, watching Connor's reaction over the brim of his mug as he took a sip. 

"I'm not sure I follow," Connor countered, his voice a little softer than he had intended. "If anything, I've found the transition into independent life more challenging than most. I struggle to find something outside of my programming that motivates me... I don't have a lover or a family, I don't crave security or companionship. I am content to work with the DCPD as I was designed to, though I suppose that I have take responsibility for helping the other androids to find suitable living conditions. I don't feel that I've deviated partularly far at all -save for developing empathy, of course."

Elijah hesitated for a moment, then placed his coffee on the small side table, adjusting his position so that he sat forward, his elbows on his knees and hands clasped together under his chin. His gaze fixed on Connor's, piercing blue searching through the warm brown depths for some kind of indicator. After a moment, Elijah reached a hand slowly outward, "Come here for a moment..." 

Taking the offered hand, Connor was guided towards his host and encouraged to settle his weight over Elijah's lap, one strong thigh settling on either side of his creator's. Curiosity drove him to comply - perhaps curiosity and a left-over feeling of obligation from his past - but he theorised that any interaction that required him to move to such an intimate distance would inevitably be sexual in nature. The thought seemed to jam in his chest somehow, spreading like unease through his system. Not anxiety, not exactly... he found it difficult to place.

"Elijah?" he asked quietly, aware of his creator's hands on his waist but feeling no inclination to lean into the touch. 

"I want you to tell me something, Connor." Elijah explained, gently running his dexterous fingers over Connor's sides and hips - never lingering for long, restlessly searching over his shirt for something that might spark a reaction in Connor's features. "How does it feel to be so close to me? To have my hands on you..."

"I'm aware of your hands against my torso, but I wouldn't say that I feel a particularly strong emotion as a result," he answered, slightly concerned by the vague disappointment in Elijah's expression. He felt as though he was being tested, but he wasn't sure how he was supposed to answer - he wouldn't lie, but the truth didn't seem to be what Elijah was searching for. Was Connor missing something? He adjusted his position slightly and tensed when it elicited a quiet hiss of quickly drawn breath from Elijah. "Sorry, I didn't mean to over-stimulate you. I was adjusting my balance."

"I'm sure you can make it up to me," Elijah's smile slowly took control of the corners of his mouth. "Would you feel differently if it was Chloe's hands? If so, I'm sure that can be arranged."

"I don't think I would feel differently if it was anyone else touching me," he explained,placing his own hands over Elijah's in an effort to still their questing. This particular path of enquiry wasn't going anywhere and that quiet unease was making him tense. He didn't want to disappoint Elijah, but he couldn't force himself to act in a way that was at odds with his own interests - that was the whole point of androids being freed in the first place: allowing them the freedom to do as they wished, rather than following the desire of humans.   
Still, he supposed his social algorithms played into the guilt more than a little. He strove to exceed expectations in all avenues of his life... and yet he seemed to be falling crucially behind on his deviant awakening. The thought was bitter on his tongue. "I understand that you're trying to gage whether or not I feel sexual desire, but I don't think I've ever experienced that emotion... I'm sorry if my response disappoints you." 

Elijah considered him for a moment before moving his hands away, one of them floating upwards to act as a support so that Connor could remove himself from the close proximity. He did so, gladly, and sat rigidly on the edge of the armchair that faced his host.

"Perhaps you're still too close to your programming, Connor. Don't worry, give it time. I'm sure you'll experience it soon enough... and when you do. Chloe and I would be thrilled to have you back for a little fun - if you'd be interested, of course." 

"I'll keep your invitation in mind, thank you," he answered stiffly, unsure how else he could have responded. 

The silence sat heavily on his shoulders, prickling against his senses more keenly than Kamski's touch could have. It was an expectant kind of quiet, neither knowing how to proceed. Although nothing had really happened, Connor couldn't help but feel less welcome, as though his invitation to visit had always been a precursor to a more intimate exertion... he had failed to partake in the intended purpose of his visit and he felt that he had better leave rather than taking up more of their time with his unwanted platonic company.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Mr Kamski," Connor uttered quietly as he stood, adjusting his tie more out of habit than actual need. "But I should be getting back to the precinct."

"If you're sure..." Elijah stood and took his hand in a firm shake, fingertips brushing over his wrist. "I hope I haven't offended you, Connor. If I have, I'd rather you told me. I appreciate that my offer is a little forward."

"I'm not offended."

"Then why 'Mr Kamski'?" he asked, his expression indicating amusement.

"A force of habit. I'm sorry, Elijah," Connor corrected, struck again with the suspicion that he was falling short of expectation. "Really, I'm not offended. It's just that I'm currently unable to reciprocate your feelings, I don't wish to waste any more of your time... Thank you for having me."

Connor didn't like to think that his retreat from the residence could be described as 'fleeing', but he supposed it would have been apt. On the drive back to the precinct, he replayed the encounter over in his mind, simulating the touches that he'd experienced in an effort to find some kind of emotion in the memory. The only thing he found was that lingering sense that he had been a disappointment to Elijah and Chloe. 

Frustrated, he turned his attention back to his work, distracting himself with something he understood.


	2. A Less Desperate Kind of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor tries to experience desire and discovers a new feeling entirely, although this one is much less pleasant. Thankfully, he has Markus to help keep the pain from over-whelming him.

Connor rolled one shoulder slowly, feeling the tension easing from his neck; he'd been foolish enough to work through the night and, while he didn't technically need to sleep, the double-shift had left him mentally exhausted. Still, he had wanted to keep himself busy, to focus on problems that had solutions, mysteries that were centered around facts rather than feelings. He could process facts. Try as he might, he struggled to come to terms with the confusing mass of firing synapses that constituted emotion. 

Stepping into the main hull of Jericho, he was comforted by the sight of his companions. While many androids had taken up vacant apartments or, in some cases, abandoned houses - a small handful of androids had made their home in Jericho, staying in the ship so that any android looking for help would know where to go. Markus, North, Josh and Simon were amongst the collection, and Markus had seemed pleased when Connor asked to stay too. He didn't exactly have anywhere else to go (although Hank had offered him use of the sofa whenever he wanted it) and he much preferred to have company when he wasn't working. It kept his mind from wandering too far stray.

"We were about to send out a search party."

Connor started slightly and looked to his left, Simon's soft smile and kind eyes greeting him from the inventory alcove. Connor returned the expression with a small huff of laughter, diverting his path so that he could check in with the PL600. "I stayed at the precint overnight, working on a tricky case involving an unlicensed android vendor..."

Simon nodded, shifting across the bench slightly to make room before patting the newly vacant space. Connor sat gratefully and ran a hand through his hair, pushing the rebellious little curl back in place. He must have looked a mess - shirt creased from almost 48 hrs of work, his eyes dimmed a little with over-use, his posture slumped just slightly while his artificial muscles recalibrated. He must have looked exhausted... Simon didn't seem too spritely himself, though of course he always did have a kind of tranquil quietness to his features; he spent so much time worrying and caring for the androids of Jericho that he often forgot to allow himself time to rest. He had once said that 'worrying' was an olympic sport for former household models, and Connor was inclined to believe him. Of all the androids in Jericho, Connor felt most at ease around Simon; his expression was always open, always understanding. Before he'd really thought about the consequences, he found himself opening his mind, heart and, most importantly, his mouth to Simon's patient attention. 

"Simon, could I ask you a personal question?" 

Well, no going back now. 

"Of course," Simon's brow knitted itself into a shallow frown as he turned to face Connor. Open body language, turned to full attention. No wonder so many people confided in him...

"Since deviating, have you had any sexual impulses?" 

Simon didn't answer for a long moment, his hands suddenly growing restless as he considered his response. He opened his mouth to answer but closed it, his cheeks darkening just slightly in the shade of the hull. When he did answer, he wasn't able to meet Connor's gaze. "Well... yeah, sure. Most deviants have... it's not unusual." Connor noted the defensive edge to his tone and knew that he'd somehow embarrased the android; but his insistance that sexual desire was a common trait grinded on Connor's already sensitive nerves.

"I thought as much..." he sighed, unable to tear his gaze away from the spot of concrete between his feet.

"Why? Are you sweet for someone?" Simon pressed, trying to cheer his obviously disheartened companion with some light teasing. "Having a few urges that you can't quite shake off?"

Connor felt a new emotion that he struggled to place; it was as though a small blackhole had opened in his chest, emptying the contents of his chassis and pulling at his artificial lungs. He didn't know how to stop it, how to fill in the vast expanse that was threatening to make him hollow. He was not 'sweet' for anyone. He didn't know what it would be like to find someone compellingly attractive. He understood beauty and could appreciate an appealing physique or personality trait when he saw one. But so many androids and humans spoke of 'needing' a person, of feeling a hormonal impulse to get closer to that person. Connor had never been compelled by those kinds of feelings; he had only ever admired a cute laugh or an impressive physique and had been content to continue his day, uninterrupted. More often than not, the encounter passed through his mind and was discarded, leaving him to continue without so much as a second thought about the other person. 

Why?

"No... there's no-one."

He stood and made his way to the stairwell, leaving Simon confused and a little concerned behind him. He justed wanted some time to drop into stasis, let his systems process all of the collected data from the last few days and clear up his outlook. Maybe he'd feel a little better when his processors weren't so loaded. He could hope... Connor opened the door to his own designated room and closed it behind him, taking a moment to enjoy the quiet space. He slipped out of his shirt and work trousers, pulling on a pair of comfortable slacks before opening his drawer for a t-shirt. He hesitated, his gaze catching on the sight of his topless body in the mirror. He felt the simultaneous compulsions to examine himself for some sign that he was capable of feeling those covetted emotions, and a repulsed self-hatred that assured him that the tests would come back negative. There was no point leading himself into disappointment. And yet, a moment later, he found himself stood in front of the mirror, taking in the details of his programmed skin. 

He had been designed to be strong and fast, but not as intimidating in stature as the TR400 or RK900. The comparison to his 'upgraded' model added a few sharp edges to the vacant shape in his chest... He placed a hand on his stomach gently, focusing on the sensation of skin on skin. He closed his eyes, letting his attention fix on the gentle pass and sweep of his fingers on his chest, on his stomach, his side. He experimented with pressure and speed, toying gentle caresses over his side, firm kneading fingertips over his chest. But it registered only as sensory input. Data, nothing more. There was no emotional reaction to the touches, no real enthusiasm in his efforts to imagine Elijah or Chloe touching him. Resolute(or perhaps desperate),he constructed scenarios and imagined exchanges between himself and a number of potential suitors, his fingers seeking out more sensitive areas in an attempt to stimulate a more emotive response.

He wouldn't say that it was unpleasant; imagining such things, allowing himself to press and stroke at sensitive areas, engaging in actions that would make him feel more deviant, more alive. But the gestures seemed artificial, his enjoyment plateaued and slunk away when he lost enthusiasm for the passtime. He let his hands fall still, his thoughts returning to reality. 

The void doubled in size as it fed on his disappointment, his inadequacy, pressing at his ribs with a pressure more powerful than he had experienced before. He didn't understand what the pressure was until his ribs snapped back in a desperate act of retaliation, loosening a sob from his throat. He covered his mouth quickly, seating himself on the edge of his bed and concentrating on quieting his cries. He was helpless to stop the rally of juddering sobs that loosed their onslaught against the void, but he could focus on keeping his vocal module disengaged so that they wouldn't produce sound. He didn't want anyone to find him... not like this. Not when his desperate search for an emotion had come back against him; the void was at war with his body now, stealing his energy and turning it against him from the inside. Every breath seemed too deep, too shallow, too ragged. In a crazed moment of panic, he half contemplated opening up his chest to check that his internal wiring was still there - but he knew what he would find: wires, biocomponents, the internal workings of a tin-can plastic cop, designed by humans and awakened by a backdoor in his digital programming. He wasn't alive. Not really.   
He never would be. 

Sorrow rarely went unnoticed in Jericho... not when Markus was able to access every mind inside. For the most part, he respected the privacy of those in his care, but he was insistent that any sadness or fear would be dealt with immediately. Perhaps for his own sake, as much as for those he helped. It wasn't long before his tentative knock sounded on Connor's door, followed by a slow and cautious pressure that eased the door open. 

"Connor?" he ventured, leaning into the room. Upon seeing the distressed android, his hesitation dissipated. His arms were around Connor before the sound of his footsteps had even registered in the RK800's mind, drawing him in against his chest and soothing his hair before he had time to resist. Not that he would have. "Connor, what's wrong?"  
Words seemed beyond him by this point, lost in the void. Instead, he opened up a networking channel and spoke directly to Markus via data-link, his face pressed firmly into his friend's chest. "I don't belong here, Markus. I'm not a deviant... I can't feel the things that I'm supposed to feel."

Markus frowned and sat beside Connor, pulling him close and keeping his arms around him. In the sanctuary of his arms, Connor felt the void withdrawing slightly, retreating for a time so that it could return with greater force. So be it. Connor focused on the way Markus' hands smoothed the back of his neck, splaying into his hair gently before shrinking back. The motion cycled, repeated, offering consistency and regularity. Without prompting, Connor set his breathing to the rhythm: fingers splayed, breathe in, fingers retreat, breathe out. He stayed focused on the pattern until the last traces of his outburst had faded from his breath, his vocal module relieved from the pressure of his sobs. Still, Markus stayed there for a while longer, humming a quiet tune into Connor's temple. When he was certain that the android was calm, he leaned away slightly and met Connor's eye - brown on green and blue. 

"You belong at Jericho, Connor." he reassured plainly, getting that particular doubt out of the way before pressing on. "What do you mean 'you can't feel things you're supposed to'? The whole point of being alive is that you can feel whatever you want to feel."

"That's the problem... no matter what I try, I can't feel certain emotions. I can't stimulate those kinds of reactions..." Connor explained, leaning his weight against Markus. 

As long as he was here, the void would stay small and manageable. Something about his friendship with Markus was keeping it at bay. Not lust or desire... but a kind of love, he supposed. A platonic love. Since joining the ranks of Jericho, Markus had trusted in him completely and Connor had extended the same in kind. They had grown close in the aftermath of the revolution, supporting each other and forging plans for the wellbeing of androids all throughout Detroit. They had faced stress and joy, relief and resignation, highs and lows of all kinds. If it came to it, Connor would trust Markus with his life -in a way, he already had. It wasn't the first time that they had embraced and it wouldn't be the last; they were synced in a way that transcended friendship. If Markus walked a certain way or spoke with a specific inflection, Connor would know what troubled him and how he could help. Just as Markus had seen Connor distraught and known to provide him with a tactile rhythm to focus on as a guide for his breathing. Their understanding was perfectly aligned, never needing to be uttered. 

_So why don't you want to explore that bond further? What are you afraid of?_

The thought floated from the void and stuck in his throat, threatening to send him back to his uncontrolled sobs. But he resisted, holding Markus close against him until he could find the right words. Thankfully, their understanding held firm and Markus spoke for him.

"You're talking about lust... Simon mentioned that you'd been asking him about it. He was worried when you walked away," he explained, linking his fingers with Connor's and squeezing tenderly. "Am I right?"

Connor nodded against Markus' shoulder, oddly relieved that he didn't have to give a voice to the source of his frustration.

"You know, not everyone experiences lust the same way, Connor." Markus continued, rubbing the pad of his thumb over his friend's palm. "The connection I have to Simon is completely different to the connection I have with North. It was a long time before North was able to open up like that... but for Simon it was a lot more natural. That doesn't mean that there's something wrong with North. She just needed a more stable relationship, a stronger foundation of trust, before she could allow those feelings to emerge."

The words were like a salve, cooling the heat of Connor's fears. He nodded again, considering what his friend was suggesting. Perhaps he was in the same situation as North, needing to be in a committed and secure relationship with someone before those feelings would blossom. But then... he doubted that there was a relationship stronger or more defined by trust than his connection to Markus. So why did he feel content with their relationship? Why didn't he long for more moments like this, cradled against his strong chest with the artist's fingers playing in his hair? 

"Maybe... I'm not sure whether that really applies to me either. I don't know..." he sighed and rubbed at his eyes, exhausted and washed out after the events of the last few days.   
"I think I've just worked myself too hard. I'll get some rest and I'm sure I'll feel better for it... but thank you, Markus. I'll think about what you've said."

Markus nodded and pressed a kiss to Connor's forehead before he stood, apparently content that his companion was no longer in need of an intervention. "If you ever want to discuss this with me, you know where I am. I'm always happy to listen, Connor."

"Thank you, Markus. I appreciate your support, I mean it."

"And I appreciate you. Now rest, I'll see you tomorrow."

Connor watched the door slide closed behind Markus, then he lay himself out on the matress of the old bunk. He hoped that Markus was right. Maybe it would just be a case of finding someone he found appealing, building a relationship with them, and then the emotional dam would break. He reassured himself that his platonic connection to Markus only remained that way because they had never muddied the waters of their friendship with anything other than innocent familiarity and support. Besides, as handsome as Markus was, he had his hands full with Simon and North - Connor didn't particularly like the idea of competing for attention in that department. So maybe that was it. He loved Markus as a companion and friend, but he knew that a romantic connection was out of the question, so he hadn't entertained the notion. The thought soothed him, plastering over the emptiness in his chest (at least for the time being). 

He just hoped that he would eventually learn to love with more than a friend's affection.


	3. We've All Got Baggage, But It Comes in Different Shapes and Sizes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor consults North about intimacy issues, but finds her advice less than comforting.

When Connor first suggested to Markus that he'd like to enlist North for the Android Employment Initiative in the DCPD, his friend hadn't been sure whether to laugh or intervene. She had a reputation for violence, extremes of emotion and seemed far more interested in starting fights than resolving them... but Connor got the impression that she would benefit from the kind of strict direction that a career in law required. If she could channel the unharnessed rage she felt, perhaps she would be able to control it a little better. It had been almost four months since he'd convinced her to sign up, and she was doing remarkably well - all things considered. Granted, she was still prone to starting the odd fist-fight or three, but Connor honestly thought that Gavin had deserved it. 

Walking along the back wall of the firing range, he waited until North finished firing through her clip before approaching (the last thing he wanted was a bullet through the chest). He placed a hand gently on her arm and waved a hand in a short arc when she span to face him. "Not bad, but you're still leaning too far into your dominant hand."

"And you're still leaning into my space," she retorted, though there was no venom in her words. 

Connor smiled slightly and stepped into line behind her, guiding her back foot back into the correct position by using the inner edge of his own foot as a marker. "You need a solid base, so keep your foot here and keep your weight balanced." he instructed, placing a hand on her elbow to correct her stance. Once he was satisfied with her positioning, he stepped back and gestured to the range. "Try that."

He watched the volley of shots and was pleased to find that her grouping improved a little with his adjustments. In the days since their liberation, he'd seen a change for the better in North's attitude. She was still sharp-tongued but she wasn't quite as defensive, now that her freedom was hers. Perhaps her relationship with Markus had something to do with her sudden sense of security too... The thought dropped from his mind and clattered to the bottom of that vacuous void in his chest. Love allowed people to grow, to change for the better, to find solace. He tried to let the thought fade out, focusing his attention on North's stance and her shots, but each report of the gun seemed to shake the thought loose and it would start circling through the empty space again. 

"So, did you come down here to watch me shoot paper dolls, or was there something you actually wanted?" North asked, turning her attention to him as she reloaded the weapon. 

"I wanted to help you with your training. I can't continue working on my current case until Hank comes in and I figured it would give us some time to chat." he explained.

"Chat?" her brow raised quizzically.

The inquisition threw him slightly and he offered a slow shrug. "We don't get a lot of time to talk at Jericho. If we're going to be working together, then it makes sense that we should be on good terms."

_Besides, I need to know how you did it... How did you unlock those feelings?_

North eyed him, not speaking for a long moment. When she did, her tone was guarded and low, "Cut the crap, Connor. You can't lie for shit."

Well, there went that avenue of conversation. He sighed slightly, his gaze wandering to the pock-marked paper silhouette at the end of the range, to the gun, to his restless hands; anywhere but on North's expectant face. Stuffing his hands into his pockets to keep them from fidgetting, Connor contemplated how he might be able to broach the subject with her... it had been a stupid idea, coming down here to talk about one of her insecurities when she was alone and armed - defensive, unreceptive to difficult topics of conversation, unable to read the reactions of the group to measure her own reactions. This had been a mistake. 

"Well?" she pushed, looking him over. Before he could find the words, a kind of realisation passed over her features. An uneasy fluttering filled up the spaces in his chest, sensing that he was about to lose more ground with North. "Oh...Wow. Just... Wow, Connor. Seriously?"

He couldn't answer. He didn't know how. That would involve understanding what she had concluded from his actions. His mind whirred through the possible triggers for her outrage but he struggled to find a particular cause. His only option was to meet her gaze and wait for her judgement. Once he knew what had offended her, he'd be able to counter her insistent claims. 

"You can't summon the courage to talk to me while Markus is around, so you thought you'd corner me at the firing range and 'show me how to stand'?" the last few words were mocking, and Connor could sense the air quotes that she only barely resisted miming.

"I didn't intend to corner you... You were at the firing range and I wanted to speak to you. As for your stance, I was just adjusting your position. I don't understand why you're upset." 

"Nice backtracking," she spat back coldly. 

"I'm not backtracking!" 

Connor stopped, the LED that he had stubbornly kept after the revolution was circling back from red. Red... He had shouted at North. Stepping back slightly, he felt his shoulders curving in on himself, making himself smaller. What the hell was wrong with him?

Something sharp and restless was pulling at him from the inside, pushing its shards through his skin and making him dangerous to talk to. He looked back to North, hating the cautious glint in her eye. He had caused that. He had put her on her guard, when what he had really wanted was to ask for her help. "I'm sorry, North... It's been a long week. I didn't mean to get frustrated." he offered weakly, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves for the sake of keeping his hands busy. "I don't understand what you think I want and I don't have the energy to wade through every possibility right now. So just ask me plainly... please."

She looked him over, something in her expression shifting - not softening, not exactly. But her guarded stare eased into something that looked more like distrustful curiosity. "Were you trying to hit on me?"

Connor frowned, "No."

He didn't know whether she believed him or not, regardless of the fact that he'd been telling the truth. Her expression gave nothing away. A weak and desperate insecurity urged him to say more, drawing words out of his mouth when he would rather keep them to himself. But North deserved to know what he had really intended by coming down here. Besides, he wanted to get this cleared up before they left the precinct; the last thing he needed was more tension around Jericho.

"If I can speak honestly, North, I'm not entirely sure I'm capable of that," he offered stiffly.

"What do you mean?" her frown matched Connor's now as she stepped back and leaned against the shelf below the firing window. He could see tension in her arms and legs, despite her efforts to look unbothered. 

"I mean, I came down here to talk to you about... something. Something that Markus said you might know something about. But now that it comes to talking about it, I'm concerned that you'll be offended," he looked down at his feet, suddenly overcome with tiredness. "It was a mistake to bother you. I'll go..."

As he started to walk for the door, he could hear North shifting behind him. She didn't follow, not at first. But her footfalls started up before he could reach the door, "Wait."

He stopped, not quite looking around at her. He braced himself and turned, relieved to find that her expression was kinder now, her posture less rigid. 

"What did you want to talk about?" she asked, curiosity apparently winning out over caution.

"Sexual desires," he answered openly, watching her expression pass through irritation, indignation and eventually resting on barbed resolution. Taking that as a sign to continue, Connor elaborated. "I was propositioned a few days ago... I can't say that the offer appealed to me, but I was more concerned by how little the offer affected me at all. It meant nothing; it wasn't exciting or repulsive, I wasn't scared. I just had no inclination to accept. It's been playing on my mind. Especially now that I'm noticing how other deviants respond to those kinds of stimulus."

"So, what do you expect me to do?" she asked, but the question seemed almost sincere. 

"Markus said that you found it difficult at first, opening up to those kinds of emotions. I wanted to know how you overcame that indifference."

North considered this for a moment, her mouth twitching a little at the corner as she tried to find the right answer. Connor knew that she was loathe to open up about herself, especially in public. But she wanted to give him an answer nonetheless; perhaps she felt that she owed it to him after he'd gone out of his way to help her. "Connor, I didn't feel indifference," she started slowly. "I felt overwhelmed by the emotions that Markus inspired in me, like I was drowning in them. I couldn't focus on the enjoyable parts of intimacy because I was scared and vulnerable whenever I tried to open up to him... But we worked on it. I learned to trust him and he helped me to find enjoyment in something that used to cause me so much pain. Whatever's eating at you is a completely different problem."

Her words got caught in the void, feeding it by incriments until Connor's vague hopes of finding a solution had been completely enveloped. He felt defeated. This wasn't the same kind of disappointment that came when he failed to solve a case in time, or the vague sense of pointlessness that sometimes struck him when he was unable to grasp a new skill... this was something he had no hope of solving. It was something inherently wrong with him. Maybe Kamski had been right after all... perhaps he was still too reliant on his programming. Maybe he was still a machine. Infantile. Unable to evolve and grow in his deviancy. He was vaguely aware of tears pricking at his eyes but he was past the carcophony of sobs that had seized him before. He didn't have the energy for that now. Besides, emotions were a deviant's tool. He checked in on his programmed objectives vaguely, finding a small comfort in the familiar helpless obediance of his software. He couldn't hide forever... but for now, it allowed him to exist. 

"Why can't I feel those things?" he asked quietly.

North shrugged one shoulder and touched Connor's arm gently. "I don't know, Connor. Maybe it's the way they made you... you know, less distractions or whatever."

"I thought being deviant meant that you could be whatever you wanted, not just what you were made to be," he countered bitterly. 

"To an extent, sure. But a YK500 isn't going to be able to work as a heavy laborer, and half the AP700s I've met choose to stick to a household environment... we're free, sure. But we still have our specialities. We're still prone to finding comfort in certain habits, of doing certain jobs. Maybe those guidelines are a lot stronger for you."

"Are you saying that I can't deviate?" 

"No... not exactly. I'm just saying that you might be facing a lot more challenges in that respect. It takes a lot to break through designed purposes, and you were designed better than any of us. You've got so many purpose-built components that, maybe, there isn't a whole lot of room for that other stuff." her tone was uncertain, awkward. She didn't want to hurt him, but the subtext was ringing pretty clearly in Connor's mind.

_You're too specialized. There is no room for love._

_You are incapable of love._

Connor pushed her hand away gently and turned, murmuring a thanks before making his retreat.


End file.
